Puck Money: A Hockey Love Story

by Miller, Raine

  Perhaps the hardest thing about being fast-tracked through school and college was always feeling out of my depth. So young. Excluded. Emotionally behind. I never learned to read social cues well, because all the girls in particular, were far more worldly and never helped me get past that. Part of the leftover fear has inhibited me in forming relationships.

  Ultimately, though, I didn’t read Boris wrong. He never played with me or my feelings, or misled me. I know that now. But a week ago, I was locked in my darkness, fearing what other things could go wrong in my life. So, before that could happen, I pushed one of the few very good things in my life away. But if he has forgiven my behavior, I can see that it’s time for me to do the same. After all, he too was thrust into an adult world much younger than he was ready for. Largely, he rose above that and became a man of compassion, empathy, and honor. And I am completely and utterly in love with him.

  I turn back and snap a picture of the huge poster and then text it to Boris.

  Talia: I'm here with Parker and can’t wait for the Quidditch match to begin.

  Talia: Hope you catch the golden snitch.

  Boris: ??

  Talia: It’s a Harry Potter reference.

  Boris: I do not know Harry Potter.

  Talia: There is no possible way you have never heard of Harry Potter. Have you lived under a rock?

  Boris: Still no.

  Talia: This isn’t happening. There’s no way I can be in love with someone who doesn’t know about Harry Potter.

  Boris: Are you saying you’re in love with me?

  Talia: If I was???

  Boris: I would be a very happy man.

  Talia: Well, be happy then. And go light the lamp for me, because I’ll be in the stands cheering for my dragon man tonight.

  Parker and I have the best seats, right behind the Crush penalty box. There’s a huge pre-game show and the arena feels electric as a video plays, showing highlights from the preseason games. The music is loud, so loud that the bass rattles in my chest. Parker and I drink beer and eat pizza and dance, and when they finally announce the team, we go crazy, screaming and cheering, particularly for a certain star forward.

  The team skates around the ice and I can tell Boris is looking for me. I get worried that maybe he won’t recognize me with my hair in braids, but then realize my black glasses probably mark me, no matter what I wear. He sees me on the second pass, a grin breaking out on his amazingly handsome face. Butterflies are all up in my stomach at the sight of him. I blow him a kiss and he smiles even wider.

  "Goddamn," Parker says, fanning herself. "That was some crazy chemistry I just witnessed."

  "He’s—" I don’t even finish the thought, instead shaking my head and blowing a big breath out by puffing my cheeks.

  "Yep," Parker says. She gets me.

  * * *

  Boris just scored his second goal of the night. He’s a machine. The team is a machine. The words ICE DRAGON are up on the jumbotron, with a crazy graphic of a dragon with a face that looks oddly like a mix of him and the tattoo that snakes up his arm.

  "That’s my man," I yell. Parker and I are arm in arm, jumping up and down like we just met the Beatles or something.

  "That’s your man," she yells.

  The game has been fast and furious, with the opposing team out for blood. They want to prove that the Crush are all hype, but the Crush have played with pride, allowing only one goal to their three. Big Viktor Demoskev is a wall of defensive strength. Parker swoons over him, but I elbow her and inform her, "He’s engaged to Scarlett…who happens to be six months pregnant." I make a pregnant belly gesture with my hands. "She's sweet. I met her in the First Wives Club at the other game."

  "Boo, all the good ones are taken," she says, pouting.

  "There's a single guy for ya." I point out Tyler and tell her he will definitely flirt with her if she wants him to. "He thinks flirting with random women is his superpower."

  "I won't complain if he comes along with us after the game, he's hot!" Later when he gets the final goal for the Crush, deflected off his stick to go five-hole (between the goalie's legs) from a slap shot by Boris no less, she is jumping up and down like a lunatic cheering for him. The jumbotron shows a replay of his goal and LOCKHARDT LOCKS IT DOWN blasted across the screen over his celly (celebration after scoring) while the thundering crowd nearly brings the walls down it's so insanely loud.

  The post-game celebration is just as wild. The noise is ridiculous, my ears ringing from all the screaming. I text Boris to remind him about Parker being here with me and if he could ask Tyler to come by and meet her after they are finished. He tells me it's a done deal already and to wait for them outside the south entrance.

  About a half hour later, he comes out showered and looking damn fine in his blue pinstripe Euro-cut suit paired with brown loafers. His still damp hair is slightly mussed, upping his hotness quotient again—if that's even possible. Teammate Tyler looks just as fancy in his window-pane grey suit and purple shirt. Hockey players are quite the clothes horses, but I'm just here to watch and learn.

  "Boris, I'd like to formally introduce you to my best friend in all the world, Parker Reaves. Parker, meet Boris, also known as the Ice Dragon."

  They shake hands and then Boris introduces Tyler to Parker, who promptly gives her a kiss to the cheek before turning to me. "Hot librarian, it's good to see you again."

  "You as well," I say as Boris reaches out to take my hand in his. He tells Tyler and Parker to lead the way, as we start to walk in the vague direction of the Strip. I have no idea where we're going and really, I don't care because I just need to spend some time with Boris. It feels like a month since I've seen him, but it's only been one week. A painfully horrible, long, torturous week though.

  We fall back a bit from Parker and Tyler who seem to have hit it off as they chat away like they've known each other for ages.

  "You wore the jacket." He looks down at me and squeezes my hand. "You came to be my good luck charm when I needed you. It means a lot."

  "I’m so sorry, Boris, for pushing you away. It wasn't right for me to do it that way. Forgive me—"

  "No, I should be sorry. I feel sick about how fast I rushed things with you and pushed you. And the way I behaved at your office…I wasn't myself that day."

  "Well, the office sex wasn’t so bad." I'm grinning. "Honestly, I just didn’t know where to put all the feelings, you know? There was so much intensity and I just… I hadn’t really dealt with the thing that happened, and then you were saying the L word, and then there's the part about you being so honorable and so good that I wasn’t sure I was good enough for you."

  He looks utterly shocked. "You didn’t think you were good enough for me? Talia, I am just a hockey player. You are a highly educated, highly successful, genius financial planner. You are smart and sexy and bold and exciting. I’m a really, really boring dude, and I can barely read. If anyone’s not good enough in this relationship, it’s me."

  A weird laugh pops out of me. "Umm, no. Just say no to that noise, Boris. You are in no way boring. Not to me or to anyone for that matter. Have you seen the ginormous poster of your hot self on the side of the arena? Sweet Christ, every woman in Vegas probably wants you."

  "They want the idea of me," he says. "They want to have sex with a pro athlete. They never cared to get to know me, so those sorts of women have never held my interest. You? You interest me. You have a bright mind. You have things to say. You have respect for yourself."

  "Well, they can’t have you anyway, because you're mine." I stop and turn slightly to show him the back of the jacket. "I've got your name on my back to prove—"

  He shuts me up with a blistering kiss, and then takes his time kissing me more slowly until I'm breathless and more than a little wobbly on my strappy red heels.

  When wolf whistles ring out around us, we start walking again, hand in hand a few more blocks until Tyler leads us into a smallish bar with a live band. There are lots of people in Crush
gear and they all want selfies and autographs with Tyler and Boris. Tyler seems to love the attention, while Boris seems to simply tolerate it. Eventually though, we’re able to sit down in a booth.

  "I have one serious question," Boris says to the group once we’ve each got a beer. "Who the hell is Harry Potter?"

  We all burst out laughing. Parker says, "The boy who lived?"

  Boris looks woefully confused.

  Tyler says, "Dude, it’s a book series about a bunch of kid wizards. It’s an international phenomenon."

  "A book series…" Boris sinfully strokes his beard scruff. "Okay. It makes sense that I’ve not heard of it, then."

  "Read a book, brother," Tyler says, rolling his eyes. To Parker, he asks, "Wanna go do a shot at the bar?"

  Parker smiles and nods, happily hopping up to escape yet another of my long-winded treatises on the everlasting value of Harry Potter and the injustice that the series will probably never be considered a literary classic, even though it totally should be.

  I do force this on my sweet Boris though, who listens attentively enough, but seems visibly relieved when I finally stop babbling so he can kiss me again. He's not let go of my hand since we sat down in the booth. He smells as delicious as he looks, and my heart is light for the first time in weeks. Boris has me tucked up against his side like he'll never let me go again when he whispers, "You are beautiful tonight, krasotka. I very much like your hair in these braids." He gives one a light tug and his eyes darken with a hunger that I've seen a time or two before. The electric jolt that hits me right between my legs requires me to squirm a little in my seat.

  "You are pretty beautiful yourself, dragon man."

  We count as Parker and Tyler each do three shots in succession. I have a feeling my best friend is going to play the role of puck bunny tonight and indeed, an hour later, she and Tyler announce they are going back to his place to make waffle fries in his new deep fryer. I think it might be code for having sex but then again, maybe they just have the munchies.

  Boris and I head out, too, back to our building. We go to my apartment so I can check on LuLu, who makes a big fuss over her favorite guy—clearly missing him for being absent in her life lately. I can't help watching the two of them as he makes it up to her, speaking Russian to her in the sweetest voice. Gah, this man. He slays me dead with his swoony ways.

  After making sure she’s fed, I step over to the bookshelf and point to the row of hardcover special edition Harry Potters—among the most prized out of all my books.

  "Wow, there are seven of these books?"

  I nod. "Yep, and they get more and more complex as they go on. It’s a great story. I’ve read the series three times all the way through." There’s way more pride in my voice than is warranted over this particular achievement, I suppose. It makes me blush.

  Boris comes to my side and runs a fingertip over my now most certainly pink cheek. "You’re very cute when you go full nerd. Maybe you can read these stories to me?"

  "Maybe we can start by watching the movies," I suggest.

  “Fine, but I have a special place in my heart for listening to you read, as you know." His tone darker as his eyes flash with mischief.

  "I don’t think that place is in your heart exactly…" I joke.

  He takes both of my hands in his. "Talia, I’m so sorry I rushed things. It’s just that I am a one-woman man. I do not want something cheap or meaningless and I am pretty sure what I feel for you is real. It's just that the way I was raised has framed my feelings for how I want my life to be as an adult. My upbringing wasn't great. I've not told you why I'm the way I am about relationships, but there is a reason for it I suppose."

  "Will you tell me? I want to know about you too, Boris. The good and the bad." I tug him by the hand over to sit beside me on the chaise, snuggling into his side when he puts his arm around me.

  He takes a big breath before he begins to speak. "My bio states my parents divorced when I was young, but the truth is they were never married. My father already had a wife and a family in Romania when he made my mother pregnant with me. After my birth, she took me to live in Prague, because she had friends from college who lived and worked there. She struggled as a single mother but made a decent home for us. My father provided support for me growing up, but she never got over his rejection of us. She did not have a good opinion of herself and took up with all kinds of men who used her and tossed her away like she was nothing. She developed a severe drinking problem and her health deteriorated after that. I was nearly removed from her care by the children's services authorities when she was at her worst. It was Georg's father, her cousin, who reached out and invited her to come back home to Saint Petersburg when she was in dire need of help and support from her family. He is the one who helped me get a spot in the Olympic hockey program with Georg. He was my coach."

  My heart nearly breaks from his sad, sad story, and it takes every ounce of determination not to start weeping for innocent Boris being scared and afraid for his mom and nowhere to turn. I put my hand over his heart and rub softly. "I'm so sorry you had to endure such a scary situation as a young boy all alone, it must have been terrifying for you at home, and then struggling in school. Oh, I'm so sorry, Boris, but it does sound like you got some help and support from Georg's family, so I'm very grateful for them." He covers my hand with his, pressed over his heart, holding it there. "Is your mother still…in Saint Petersburg?"

  "Yes. She lives in an assisted living facility. I make sure she has everything she needs. Her health is not very good so she needs the care, but she is sober now and is living the best life that she can, I think. She watches my games on the NHL app I set up for her, so she can follow me. I get texts from her after nearly every game once she is able to watch it due to the time difference." He looks at me and runs a finger down my cheek. "She knows about you…about how I feel about you."

  "Well, I can certainly understand why you weren't interested in a swinging lifestyle once you grew up. I get it loud and clear now, but I wish you'd told me this before."

  "I know, I should have told you that in my future I see a stable home, a loving relationship, and the healthy family life I never had. I want that. I deserve that. But mostly, I want to have it with you, even though I know you aren't ready to hear it from me."

  "Oh, I think I might be ready now," I say softly. "And of course, you deserve it,” I tell him fervently, my hand on his cheek. "Boris, I knew what I was feeling for you was the real thing, but right after my ordeal, it was…it was a whole lot, all at once. I was wrong to shut you out. I should have been an adult and talked to you about it."

  "Was it…were you struggling after the—"

  "I was. I am. I think I didn’t know how to process what had happened. What I was feeling. But I will seek out therapy for my PTSD, and I promise not to let it come between us."

  "When I got that text, Talia, I would rip through worlds to get to you, to protect you."

  "I’m not always the one who needs protecting, Boris, as you need protecting too. You’re far too trusting. You need someone looking out for you."

  "Well, I hope that person will be you. You are fierce and scary."

  I laugh and wiggle off the chaise and over to the shelves. "Yes, I’ll always be there to hit someone over the head with a book." I pull the first Harry Potter from the shelf and say, "I’ll read two chapters, okay?"

  He grins and pulls me to the chaise, settling his head on my lap. I read the first two chapters, and then Boris surprises me when he pulls the book from my hands and rearranges our positions, my head on his lap. After reading a full page out loud to me in his sexy accent that I love to hear, he tells me about the work he’s been doing to better manage his dyslexia.

  Honestly, seeing him reading turns me on.

  The tables have turned.

  I close the book and set it safely on the side table, before straddling myself over his lap.

  "You are so amazing, and I am very turned on right now. I likey whe
n you read to me." I press my mouth to his. He answers in kind, pushing hard, his tongue insistent against my lips. I moan as I give him access, his hands against my back, his cock hardening beneath my hips, hitting between my legs at just the right spot. I move my hips, the frustration of being fully clothed making me growl like a wild animal in mating season.

  I roll off him and start peeling off my clothes. "I want to be naked with you. And I want…I want—” I’m scared to say it.

  “You want what, krasotka? Tell me.” He doesn’t say it sweetly, rather it's a hard command demanding a response.

  “I want—you to f-fuck me this time. I want us to…fuck it out. We both need that very much right now, I think."

  He chuckles darkly as he undresses, nodding slowly up and down, affirming he indeed does agree. I get a full view of his perfectly sculpted body when he stands naked and ready for me. Flawless pectorals, washboard abs, wide shoulders, trim waist. His legs are strong and muscular. His big cock juts toward me, rock hard and ready as he stares hungrily when I drop my bra to the floor.

  I’m now as naked as him.

  I’m such a lucky, lucky girl.

  "Lie back on the chaise," he commands.

  I sink down into the blue velvet and try to control my racing heartbeat from leaping out of my chest.

  "Rub your nipples and let me watch you get your sweet pink pussy ready to take my hard cock."

  Pinching and twisting my nipples with one hand, I finger my clit with the other until I’m so slippery and wet for him I can hardly stand it. I might come just thinking about having him inside me with the way he’s being so gruff and hard and sexy and dominant.

  "I want to fuck your pretty mouth and hold you by your braids.”

  Oh. My. God.

  Boris’s eyes are hooded and dark as he moves to hover over me, his cock kissing my lips before I open my mouth to take him in. I have to stretch wide to take him, but I do, and I let him push deep to the back of my throat. He does what he said he wanted to do with my braids, wrapping one around each fist, uses them to fuck his cock in and out of my mouth. It’s dirty and filthy and glorious and wonderful. He fucks like he does everything else. Carefully and with attention to detail. I take him as deep as I can until I can taste the salt of precum and he releases me. He pulls me by the legs to the edge of the chaise and spreads me wide open. His cock at my entrance, he sinks it fiercely into me, deep and hot and hard.